The Boys Who Lived
by Ventisquear
Summary: Written for BSN challenge Once Upon a Crossover. When Zevran and the Warden find Eluvian, Zevran touches it... and when they wake up, nothing is the same. Even Eluvian changed-it now has 'Erised' written on the top...


Written for Zev Thread's weekly prompt:_ O__nce __Upon __a __Crossover: _Yes, 'tis the bane of any FF writer's existence, the Crossover! This can be Zevran alone, with the Warden, or the entire group. Don't worry about setting up *how* the worlds collide, just go crazy - the more outrageous the better! Thanks to Brelaina for beta reading this and helping me with the plot holes :)

And few explanations for Potter fans. First, I want to assure you that I _like_ Harry Potter, though the 7th book is my least favourite. But the story is from the POV of Zevran Arainai, cocky and arrogant assassin. :)

Elves in DA are smaller than humans, have big eyes and pointy ears, but they are considered _beautiful_. They are also treated as second-rate citizens, little more than slaves; some people treat them as animals.

_Shem_ is an elven pejorative word for a human.

Qun - is a philosophy of one of the race in Dragon Age, where people are assigned jobs based on their gender and skills. Once you are given the job, you are supposed to find happiness and satisfaction in performing your duties for the good of the society. To desire a change is a heresy and a sign of the weak mind. You stay in the place that was determined the best for you, point.

The line about small wands and owls as pets is a line from the game's DLC (downloadable content). So yes, that's a canon. Blame Bioware, not me! :P

And, to avoid any misunderstandings - **although Zevran calls Airam "crazy kid", he's almost 21 in this story**.

* * *

><p><strong>The Boys Who Lived<strong>

"Zev! Are you all right?"

He opened his eyes but quickly closed them again. The light was too bright and he felt drowsy as if he had slept for much too long. Nothing else hurt him, so it was probably safe to say that yes, he was all right. But before he could open his mouth, the crazy kid shook him again.

"Ugh... I'm fine, fine! Stop that." He sat up and forced his eyes to open. Airam was kneeling beside him, looking worried, but uninjured. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure. You touched the damned thing and it started to suck you in, so I grabbed your arm to pull you back, but as you can see, it didn't work. Why did you have to touch it? Didn't I say clearly not to?"

Ah. _Brasca_. Yes, he remembered now. The trip to the Dragonbone Wastes... and the mirror.

When the Wardens reported the discovery of the mirror, Airam got all excited. He thought it could be another Eluvian, and with any luck, this one would not be corrupted. Of course he had to go and check himself and of course Zevran wouldn't let him go alone. During the travel Airam explained to him what Eluvians were and how they worked and how they were extremely rare. There was one in the Brecilian Forest once, but Duncan destroyed it because it was corrupted by the darkspawn taint. So the discovery of this one was great luck, something that happens once in a lifetime.

He didn't really care about history or magical artefacts – and even less about the history of said magical artefacts, so didn't listen very carefully. But when they found the mirror, there was something about it that attracted him. It was... as if it called to him, touched something deeply within him, and he couldn't resist. He had to touch it.

Not the best idea he had, apparently.

They were in a room with a lot of desks and chairs piled against the walls. Other than that there was only the mirror, propped against the wall. But it didn't look the same. Its surface seemed to be just plain glass, for a start. The frame was also different, golden, as it seemed, and it had two clawed legs.

"_Erised_," he read the letters inscribed at the top. "What does that mean?"

"I have no idea. I tried to touch it, but nothing happened."

Airam looked positively pissed off at him, and he couldn't blame him. He pulled him into a hug and kissed him. "Don't be angry, _amore_. We'll find a way to make it work again and go home. Let's first find out where we are."

"I guess we don't have any other choice anyway," sighed Airam. "But the next time I say 'don't touch that'? _Don't_."

"I promise nothing," he chuckled, releasing Airam from the hug. "Now come, before I decide that ravishing you is more urgent than finding a way home."

Airam rolled his eyes and muttered something about silly assassins unable to think with their heads even during a crisis, but he was smiling. Good. It didn't really matter where they were, anyway. As long as they were together, they could easily overcome any trouble. Of that he was sure.

oOo

The place was rather... strange. To put it mildly. This time Zevran didn't need Airam's warning to know that the place was full of some kind of weird magic. It could be hardly be overlooked, as everything around them seemed to be in constant movement. Armours, for example. At first they thought they were normal knights. Though looking back, they did behave like mindless fools, parading around and yelling the same few phrases over and over again. They tried to stop one to find out what was this place was–and found out the armour was empty. It sent cold shivers down his spine.

"Blood magic?" he asked warily, but Airam shook his head.

"What kind of fool would sacrifice blood to make empty armours walk around and talk nonsense?"

The same kind of fool who decided to animate people and animals on pictures. They were popping in and out of their frames, visiting other pictures, chatting and drinking and even talking to them, asking them from which 'House' they are.

Airam watched it for a while, fascinated. "Imagine if Sten was here with us," he chuckled.

"His head would explode, most probably. I don't think I've ever seen anything more _un-Qun_. Even the pictures are not satisfied with their place and want to be somewhere else."

"And what is wrong with that?" asked a fat lady from one of the pictures. "Why don't you try to staying in one square meter for your whole life! We'd see how long you'd be able to stand it before you went insane."

Zevran smiled at her. "Ah, you misunderstood, my dear lady. We certainly understand and approve when people want to have some fun, trust me," he said, trying to calm her down. He didn't want her to start shouting and attract the attention of everyone and everything to them.

"Why are you dressed like that? Is there a carnival today? Why haven't we been invited?" asked another one, apparently offended.

"It is, ah... just a minor party... a private one. Only for a few selected members of our house," he said quickly.

"Oh." The painted lady sounded disappointed. "So what are you supposed to be, anyway?"

"Elves," said Airam, but apparently that was not the right thing to say. All the painted folk from all the nearby pictures were looking at them now, some with a pitying look as if they were the local fools, but some with cold suspicion.

"Then you should reconsider your masks," said the Fat Lady sympathetically. "Elves don't look like that. Have you never seen an elf?"

Zevran and Airam exchanged quick glances. Perhaps it was better to play stupid, for now.

"No," admitted Zevran humbly. "A friend of ours mentioned them, and we made our masks based on that. Why? What do they look like?"

"They're ugly. Small, with big, bulgy eyes and pointy ears," said the Fat Lady. "Seriously, nobody normal would want to be an elf."

"Oh, splendid. A painted fat _shem_ with a sense of humour," murmured Airam angrily. "Let's go, Zev, we've wasted enough time here already."

"What did you call me?" shrieked the fat lady. "I don't know what it means but it doesn't mean you can insult me like that!"

"Perhaps they're Mudbloods," suggested a painted man with a leer that would make even Bann Esmerella proud. "The trash they allow into this school these days..."

"Or perhaps they are Death Eaters," said another man who was watching them suspiciously all the time.

"Death Eaters? It's true that I'm hungry–Grey Warden hungry, in fact–but I think death would be bit too much even for me," said Airam with a chuckle. Unfortunately, that didn't reassure the painted guys and when some of them popped out of their pictures with a last suspicious glance over their shoulders, Zevran quickly dragged the crazy kid away before he could do any more damage. Besides, he was hungry as well. Time to find someone really competent who could help them–preferably during a rich and nourishing meal.

oOo

It was not that simple, however. After the fiasco with the paintings, they decided to move more carefully, without being seen by anyone until they met someone who would appear reasonable enough. They soon found out that they were indeed in some kind of school for mages, and most of the people they saw were kids. But it seemed they hadn't shown up at the best moment. The whole school was in commotion. From what they could understand, a group of bandits that called themselves Death Eaters wanted to kill one of the students and believed he was hiding here.

Just their luck.

Two hours of spying and creeping around later, they knew that the boy was Harry Potter–or it could be Hairy Potter, but they agreed that wasn't very likely–and that the leader of the Death Eaters wanted people to call him the Dark Lord. How awesomely ridiculous. Airam almost choked, so hard he had to suppress his laughter, when they found out.

"Maker! What, did they consult with Al? That's even worse than the 'Hero of Ferelden'."

And then Andraste finally smiled upon them. Or leered, more likely. Anyway, they finally found the competent people–the mentors in this school. The headmaster, an ugly human who looked like an overgrown bat. From what they heard he wasn't very popular among his students and the staff and apparently was just a puppet of the Dark Lord. And an old, strict looking lady that immediately reminded him of Gran Wynne, as Airam gently called the old mage. Everyone else called her the 'nosy hag'. This one, however, seemed to be more loved. No wonder, when compared with the headmaster. If he had to choose between Wynne and Loghain, he would also choose Wynne. At least she could knit nice, warm sweaters and bake most delicious apple pie.

The only problem was, that the moment they spotted those two, they spotted each other as well. And started to fight immediately. It was quite dangerous for a while, but Airam frankly refused to move somewhere safer. He cast a shield around them, found the spot with the best view, and watched it, as if it was just a performance at the Antivan Royal Palace made in his honour.

"Hm... what a weird way to use magic energy. They seem to evoke their spells, drawing the power from their surrounding, not connecting to the Fade at all... And those pathetic little wands! What self-respectful mage uses a wand? Wands are for little children that can't control their powers yet... The next thing we'll find out they use owls as pets!"

Luckily it didn't last long before the bat guy jumped out of a window and ran away. The old lady then turned to a lad, not much younger than Airam. "All right, Potter. It is up to you now. Go and find what you must, we will try to hold the castle as long as necessary. Hurry!"

The whole castle was now preparing for a battle. The longer they watched it, the angrier Airam was. "They're _kids_! They're younger than I was when Duncan conscripted me! What kind of monster fights a bunch of scared kids?"

"It's true," he agreed, "some Dark Lord that is, if he can't get rid of few brats without a big battle."

"_Zevran_!"

"But maybe it's his way to show he's the _Dark_ Lord, yes? Killing innocent children and all that?"

As if he wanted to confirm his words, a voice of what they presumed could only be the Dark Lord in question, suddenly filled the room.

"Give me Harry Potter," it said, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded."

"Well, he is determined. You can't deny that."

"I can't stand fools who hurt children," complained Airam. "I've got an idea."

"Let me guess. You want to help them fight the Dark Lord."

"Not fight. That would take too long, maybe even days. And the sooner he's gone, the sooner they will have time to tell us how to get back."

"You mean you want to..."

"Assassinate the guy."

Now that was an idea. It would be much faster, yes, but they didn't know anything about the target. It would be extremely dangerous to attempt an assassination of the most powerful evil guy in this realm, where even magic worked differently. This was definitely not the way the Crows worked–they would require at least a week to gather information, assess the skills of the target and choose the best tactic that would help them bring the guy down. But he couldn't blame Airam for wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. And it was his fault they were here...

"I think we should talk to that Potter kid first."

oOo

The Potter lad was... a disappointment. From the way everyone was talking about him, Zevran expected him to be a powerful mage with a brilliant mind, much like his Airam. Instead, he seemed to be dumb, running around the castle, looking for some tiara, without knowing what it looked like or where it could be. Zevran had his doubts if this guy would be able to help them get back home, but it was clear that _he_ could use _their_ help. And of course his crazy kid would insist on helping. Not that Zevran minded, really–this willingness to help everyone without looking for profit was one of the things he loved about Airam.

Potter had more luck than sense, it seemed, always running right into the right people who could help him. "Why did it never work like this for us? We always had to solve everyone's mess before they helped us. He gets everything for free, it's not fair," muttered Airam, as they observed it.

In a surprisingly short time, Potter knew exactly where to go, and then met his two friends, a cute girl and a not so cute red-haired boy, who were apparently helping him, again just in the right time to plan the next steps.

Naturally, they eavesdropped. Airam's brow furrowed more and more with every word. If they understood correctly, the Dark Lord found a way to preserve his life by splitting his soul. These three kids were now trying to destroy the split parts, but they were not doing that well. So far they only destroyed four out of six. Airam looked at him, and he nodded. Yes, this would be the best time to show themselves.

When they stepped out of the shadows, the three kids jumped up and draw their wands. Zevran lifted his arms, and flashed his most brilliant smile. The girl blushed a little and smiled back. The red-haired boy scowled. Oh, are they lovers? How adorable. This should be fun– Airam nudged him a little, giving him a warning look. He sighed, but nodded. The girl was not his type anyway.

"Don't be afraid. We come in peace," said Airam.

The three kids didn't seem convinced. "Who are you?"

"Airam Surana, the Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden and Zevran Arainai, the Guildmaster of the Antivan Crows. At your service," said Airam and they bowed a little.

"I've never heard of such countries," said the girl suspiciously. "On which continent are they?"

"Thedas. Though I don't expect you've heard of that, either. We arrived from..." Airam hesitated, looking at Zevran, but he could only shrug. He had no idea how far this was from Thedas, or even in which direction.

"From beyond the Fade," finished Airam. "We travelled here accidentally by touching an Eluvian."

"On this side, it has the word 'Erised' inscribed on the top," he added when he saw their confused looks.

"You arrived through the Mirror of Desire?" The girl was interested at last. "I didn't know it could be used as a portal! I thought it only shows your true desire. That is fascinating!"

Airam wanted to reply, but Potter angrily cut in. "Yes, it is very interesting, Hermione, but we have no time for this now. We have to kill Voldemort, before he destroys the whole of Hogwarts!"

"That's why we're here, in fact," Airam cut in. "We want to offer our help. And once this complication is solved, you can help us find the way to get back home."

"_Complication_? Is that what you call a war? People are dying out there and–"

Zevran was annoyed. This Potter should really work on his anger. "Trust me, we know something about war. Airam is the Captain General of the Fereldan army. He stopped the Blight–that's a war with tainted creatures–and killed the Arhdemon that led them. Only a fool would reject his help."

"And Zevran became the Guildmaster of the Crows–they're the guild of the best assassins in the world, by the way–by fighting his way through their ranks with only a small group of supporters," said Airam, with a smile. "We overheard your conversation and know what you want to do. What we offer is this–you go and destroy the tiara. We'll take care of the snake and the Dark Lord himself."

The three of them looked at Airam, as if he just fell off the moon. "Yeah, like it's so easy," said the red-haired boy when his ability to speak finally returned. "And how are you going to do that?"

"We'll sneak into his camp and wait for your signal. Once you destroy all the other parts, I'll freeze the snake, and raise the commotion. Zev will then use the chaos to slit the man's throat."

"You want to murder him?" The girl was outraged. "Harry, don't do this! You'd be no better than Voldemort if you do this."

"I agree with Hermione, Harry," said the red-haired boy. "Besides, how can we be sure they're not Voldemort's spies?"

"We could be," said Zevran with approving nod. That was the most intelligent thing he heard from these three so far. "We are not, but we can't prove it. I know it is not wise, to trust strangers. But I assure you that before today, we didn't even know about Voldemort or this funny place. And had I not foolishly touched the Eluvian, we still wouldn't. All we want to know is how to activate the mirror at this side again so we can return home."

"I don't have time for this," said Potter angrily. "If you want to fight Voldemort, I won't stop you. We can use any help we can get. But Voldemort won't die until all six horcruxes are destroyed. We think we know where the tiara is, but we still have to get it. And we still don't know how to destroy it."

"You don't know? But –"

"We'll find out soon, don't you worry," snapped the red-haired boy. "We managed to get this far, didn't we?"

Only little more than half way, Zevran wanted to say. They destroyed the fourth one just minutes ago. But he didn't say anything–these kids were not their enemies, after all, and he preferred it to stay that way. Judging by the look on Airam's face, he made the same decision. Perhaps Potter will continue to have this strange luck. Or perhaps it wasn't strange at all, in this place–perhaps that was how things worked here.

"All right, then," said Airam. "Go and do what you have to. We'll go and try to find out more about our mark, and go to his camp. The snake should be somewhere near him, right?"

"Harry, you can't really believe that! We should stun them and–"

"No," said Potter and looked at Airam. "If you really speak the truth, then go to Voldemort's camp. After we finish here, we'll probably go there as well. We will have to find the way how to kill him, and any help will be more than welcome."

The three of them then went to get and destroy the tiara. From the sounds of it, the red-haired boy was still complaining about Potter being too trusting.

"Come, _amore_. We should get going as well."

oOo

Finding the camp of the Dark Lord was easy. Sneaking in was much more difficult. If he was alone, it wouldn't be a problem, but Airam was not so used to sneaking, and there were many Death Eaters patrolling in the forest. The problem was that they could not attack them and attract the attention of the Dark Lord too soon. They had to wait for the Potter boy and his friends. But they managed it, in the end and climbed into a tree from where they could see the camp and the Dark Lord clearly.

It wasn't difficult to recognize which one he was–clearly the ugliest and scariest one. Even his own followers were nervous around him, avoiding looking at him directly. Perhaps the Dark Lord thought it was from respect and fear, but Zevran was sure the disgust was an equal part of it. He had never seen anyone that ugly. Eyes were mere slits, no nose, no lips, skin greyish like that of a corpse. Ugh. He bet the man was stinking as well. The most disgusting mark ever.

The plan was to wait till the Potter boy came–if they attacked the snake now, they would alert all the Death Eaters of their intention. The Dark Lord would be aware that all his horcruxes are destroyed and Potter's chance to come to camp unnoticed would be practically nonexistent. Once they saw Potter, Airam would freeze the snake. It was in a cage hanging above the Dark Lord's seat, with a spell shield around it, but Airam said it wouldn't be a problem to dispel it and kill it–in some flashy manner, to cause commotion. Zevran would then use the chaos to sneak behind the Dark Lord and finish it.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of waiting, Potter popped up in the camp. Literally–it seemed he had a cloak on that made him invisible. Handy little thing, that. Wouldn't say no if someone offered to give him one. Airam elbowed him and he turned his attention back to Potter and the Dark Lord. The two were watching each other for a moment. The world around them stopped. Nobody moved, nobody dared to even breath, as it seemed.

Then the lips of the Dark Lord curled in the mirthless smile. "Harry Potter," he said. "The boy who lived."

There was no time to wonder what that meant, because the Dark Lord pulled out his wand. Potter looked at the wand, but didn't make any move. What was he doing? Wasn't he going to try to fight back? Did he _want_ the Dark Lord to kill him? Andraste's sweet ass, that boy was even crazier than his Airam. It seemed the Dark Lord was mildly surprised and perhaps even slightly disappointed, but he was not a man that wouldn't use an advantage.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A beam of green light erupted from his wand and hit the boy who fell down on the ground. The Death Eaters started cheering, but stopped almost immediately, as the Dark Lord collapsed on the ground as well. Was he dead, too? Zevran looked at Airam, who shook his head pointing to the snake. Ah, that was right. The Dark Lord couldn't die while the snake lived, yes? But then what was the point of the boy's sacrifice?

"It seems it's up to us now," said Airam.

Zevran nodded and climbed down from the tree. He could see the shield around the snake's cage disappear. The Death Eaters didn't notice, too busy fussing over their unconscious Lord. He grinned. Stupid fools. Any moment now–yes! The snake turned into a big block of ice, and the next moment it was pierced by rays of light. Crushing Prison, that was what Airam called it. It was terribly painful, as he could say from his own experience; and if the victims were frozen first, it literally torn them into pieces.

Even fools like Death Eaters couldn't ignore the pieces of the bloodied ice raining on their heads from the cage. They started shrieking and yelling, just as their Lord came to life again.

"What is going on? Stop this madness this instant!" he ordered, and everyone stopped in their tracks.

Including the Dark Lord himself.

Zevran looked up at the tree where Airam was grinning triumphantly. "Paralysis spell. I'm not going to risk one of them will cast that adava-something spell on you."

It was a child's play then.

He cleaned his daggers on the man's robe–his blood was almost as smelly as the blood of darkspawn, he didn't want it on his blades. He was about to get back to the tree, when he noticed the cloak Potter was wearing before. Well, the boy was not going to need it any more, no? Unlike him. The material of the cloak was light and smooth and it could be folded into a surprisingly small bundle. He stuffed it into the leather sack on his belt that he used for carrying antidotes and poisons. Ridiculously awesome.

Suddenly he heard a groan. He turned to the source and found out that the Potter boy wasn't as dead as he thought.

"What is going on?" asked Potter, looking at the paralysed Death Eaters and bloodied corpse of the Dark Lord. "So it is already over?"

"Not quite. Come, let's go somewhere where you can have a proper view."

"Zev? May I?" shouted Airam from the tree.

"They're all yours, _amore._"

Potter watched in horror as his crazy kid cast the spell that made him infamous in Antiva. The air became icy cold and it started snowing heavily. The Death Eaters recovered from the paralysis spell, only to be frozen solid just few seconds later.

"Blizzard," explained Zevran when he saw Potter's shocked expression. "Airam's signature spell. Now tell me–do you wish these guys dead, as well? If yes, we will finish them off. If no, they will unfreeze... eventually. Judging by the power he put into it, I'd say it would take a day or two."

"No," said Potter determinedly. "I am not a murderer. They will be arrested and have a proper trial."

"Pity," he grumbled. "I was hoping for a bit more fun."

Potter was not listening any more. He was looking around him, as if he was looking for something. It was not that difficult to guess what it was, but Zevran asked dutifully anyway.

"Looking for something?"

"For my – no, it's nothing," said Potter throwing a suspicious look at him.

"I see." Well, if he insisted... no use to return nothing, yes? "Well then, I think we should go back to the school and tell everyone the Dark Lord is dead and it's over, no?"

"Yes," said Potter. "We did it."

He wasn't sure about the 'we' part, but it didn't really matter. He was quite satisfied with his position as the lover of the Hero of Ferelden. Let little Potter be the Hero here.

"Shouldn't you be dead?" he asked.

Potter gave him a lopsided smile. "It seems I lived, again."

"Again?"

"Voldemort already tried to kill me once, when I was just a baby," explained Potter. "My mother protected me that time. This time I was sure I'd die. I found out I was the seventh Horcrux, see."

"Stupid thug, hurting little babies. I'm glad we could help to bring him down," said Airam, who already climbed down from the tree and joined them. "But if you're alive... he won't respawn in one of his followers, will he? Perhaps we should destroy them after all, just to be sure?"

"_Respawn_?" Potter looked quite disgusted by the idea. "No, it won't be necessary. It worked as if I died, because I was willing to sacrifice myself."

It didn't make much sense to Zevran, but Airam nodded. "I understand," he said. "It was similar for me with the Archdemon. It can't be killed by anyone, it has to be the Grey Warden. Who dies in the process. I was ready to die, I even wrote a bunch of goodbye letters–and yet, here I am."

"Ah, you're royally tough to kill, _amore_. I should know something about that," Zevran chuckled and wrapped his arms around Airam's waist before he told this Potter boy all their secrets.

"You're... _lovers_?" Even Alistair would envy the lovely crimson shade on the Potter's face.

"I thought that was obvious? Now, if you don't mind, I'm ravenous, like only a Grey Warden can be. Why don't we go back and start with some celebrations? And then tomorrow we can start working on finding a way back home."

Potter agreed, still blushing. He walked to the Dark Lord's body and took his wand. "This needs to be destroyed, once and for all," he explained, as he snapped it in several pieces and threw them into the camp fire. The flame sent a jet of sparks high into the air, and then it was over.

oOo

They stayed away from the celebrating party, sitting alone in one corner, with a big pile of food in front of them. The food just kept appearing, no matter how much they ate.

"That's amazing! What spell is it? I'd like to learn it, if you don't mind. We Grey Wardens are known for our appetite," asked Airam, when Potter's friend – Hermina, or something like that, came to check on them.

"It's not a spell. It's the work of the house elves," she explained coldly. Airam stopped eating immediately.

"We're elves, too, you know," he said. "I know that the elves here apparently look different from us, but..."

"Yes, they look quite different. Many humans say they're ugly, and despise them as a lower race. They use them as house slaves, you know. I try to fight against that prejudice, but the problem is, the elves are so used to it, they _want_ to be slaves. They cannot imagine being free any more."

Airam's eyes flared. Zevran held his hand. "No, _amore_. This is not our task. We have enough problems fighting racism in Thedas. I am sure the lovely lady here will do fine without our help."

"You're right." Airam sighed. "But why is it always us elves who are second-rate citizens? I'd so love to go to the world where we're the ruling class, for a change."

oOo

It turned out that to activate the mirror again was ridiculously simple, explained the stern old lady. Potter asked her to help. She was surprised to see 'creatures' like them in the castle and had a lot of nosy questions… it was truly remarkable how much she resembled Wynne. But as they were Potter's friends, she agreed to try to find out. It took one whole day, but in the end, she came up with a solution.

All they had to do was _desire_ to go back home and then walk straight into it.

It almost seemed Airam was disappointed it was solved so soon–he found out that the girl was just as prolific a reader as he was and they immediately became good friends. They spent the day discussing the differences in their magic and spell casting. Zevran only managed to bear it for a half an hour, then he went to explore the castle a bit more. It was damaged in the fight quite a bit, but it was still marvellous, full of secret passages and hidden secrets. He managed to discover thirty six, and he was sure there were still many more.

But the mirror would still be there, no? There was no reason why they couldn't come to visit their new friends, sometimes. Or they could come to Ferelden, once they moved the Eluvian to the safety of the Vigil's Keep. Hermione gave Airam two books, one of the history of magic in this world and one explaining the basics of spell casting and promised to bring more with her when she came to visit. Airam was already making plans for it. Really, if Zevran didn't know his crazy kid was not interested in girls that way, he would be jealous.

"Well, this is it. Let's just hope we won't end up in another elf-hating world," mumbled Airam, after they finally said their goodbyes. "Till we meet again, my friends."

Holding their hands, they stepped into the mirror.

oOo

Zevran opened his eyes and looked around cautiously. But it seemed they were indeed back. Airam was sitting next to him, rubbing his head.

"That was quite an adventure, wasn't it?" he asked with a smile, when he noticed Zevran was awake. "But I would still prefer it if you were more careful next time. I have a lump on my head, because of you."

"Oh, my poor little hero has a lump? How horrible of me! Come over here, I will kiss it and you'll feel better immediately..." he purred.

"Found them!" yelled Sighrun's voice from behind his back. "Over here! But they want to be alone, so don't bother coming!"

Oh yes. They were definitely back home.


End file.
